


Dame

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      I'd like to thanks my lovely beta reader, Mewca. <br/>This fanfiction is loosely based on the brazilian myth of the headless mule. <p>Written for Jude</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dame

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thanks my lovely beta reader, Mewca.   
>  This fanfiction is loosely based on the brazilian myth of the headless mule. 
> 
> Written for Jude

 

 

ï»¿ The man had arrived from the East one day, but nobody knew how. He had dark hair, so different from the people who lived there, and the patterns in his exotic clothes were bright and beautiful like the images reflected inside a kaleidoscope. He brought an air of mystery with him: the pale skin and small eyes attracting gasps of surprise and awe as much as fear, and his thin smile, the curiosity of all the noblemen from aristocracy and all the peasants alike.

It wasn't the only thing he brought with him, either.

In that european country, when eyes directed only towards war and misery outside of their luxurious castles, he brought beauty. Beauty not like the one found in golden palaces, the rich dresses and shinny jewelry women used to hid their ugly faces, the silverware and the crystal cups the men served poison to their enemies. In a place where people didn't approach forests fearing the wild nature, quivering at the thought of beasts and monsters when, in reality, those were hidden by the cover of silk mantles and imposed titles of nobility, the man brought with him... a name.

D.

It meant much more than a name, though. It meant that, together with him, he brought dreams and illusions. One day he was there, selling people everything they wished for but could not acquire. Men's greed was so bigger than their lack of trust and their evil tongues that they accepted any price D charged, and had their desires served in a plate by the man they claimed to be a devil when he first arrived.

Distrust never faded away completely. He was a wizard that enchanted men as much as witches did, his little shop near the threes and the world they dared not to touch was entrancing, welcoming lost souls to wander there and come back bearing something no one was ever quite able to explain. An animal - and there was always one involved - that could fulfill the owner's deepest wish...

A man like that could only be the thing they feared the most. But without warning, they felt drawn to him, as a moth is to a flame. 

But they were only petty humans, and D carried a contract no one ever read - mainly because at that time, only few humans were able to do so - the path of their lives. Be it towards their illusions, or mostly, towards their destruction.

Even so, the man stayed there, waiting. No one ever said what for. But D, oh, neither he knew what to expect from destiny. The only thing he knew was that a time would come when he'd be needed, not by mere pawns, but by the one who played with them as well as he did. 

That time came at a sunny noon, when the birds sang freely in the sky and nothing looked like it would go wrong.

D was never surprised by visitors, but the fully clad in royal garment guards were the ones at his door, looking as dull and as uninteresting as all the humans who ever came. D always wondered how they had any special skill of recognizing themselves by their clothes, by richness of the fabrics their tunics were made, by the jewels they wore on their body - and yet were incapable of differentiating a bird from another by the color of its feathers or the shape of its wings. He had learned to blend in with them, of course, to dress in the smoothest silk and the finest shoes, but it didn't mean that he was impressed by the elite's colorful attire, always pale when compared with natures richest greens and deepest reds and yellows and blues.

Yet, he still was careful in being even more polite to the men who he recognized, by their clothes and crests, belonged to the royal guard of the King.

The King was a man he didn't know personally, but he did know the desires he possessed. A King always wished for more than what he already had.

That was, and would ever be, humanity's downfall.

Poverty struck the people living in his land, yet he lived in abundance, having more than his share. When simple people begged for bread and water on the streets, he could wish for anything his heart desired. The most beautiful bride, the most luxurious castle, the most powerful army. 

Yet judgement came at D's hands.

D smiled, and permitted the guards to talk.

"We're here in behalf of Our Honor," a guard spoke, taking a step forward and holding a manuscript tightly between his fingers. Such grace, such air of superiority when he walked. D was disgusted by the act pulled by the man, but heard him with attention. "Our King deeply wishes to have your presence at his court by midnight. It's advised for you to come with us quickly, for we must hurry to attend to any demand."

D complied. He was waiting for a chance like that ever since he had came to this place. History always repeated itself, and this King wasn't the first, nor would be the last one to beg him for favors.

The first thing he noticed, when arriving at the palace, was how far from nature humans had gone while desperately trying to mimic it. Sticking themselves to the King, sucking everything but blood from the monarch, just like the King striping the people of all their belongings with his demands and taxes. Not like a leech, whose deeds D admired far more than any human's.

He walked down the hall with a smile, being the center of attention of greedy eyes. The wealthy men and women had everything, yet they still looked hungry, watching him like prey.

D almost laughed at the irony. He suppressed his disgust, and elegantly directed himself towards the King.

It didn't matter how the man looked, how old he was. He stood proudly in the middle of the room, and when he saw D, his face lit instantly. He waited until D reached him, though with impatience, and when they both met, D felt no need to bow or be courteous. Guards and nobles eyed him with disdain for his lack of respect towards the King, yet the man didn't seem to mind. The King's eyes were glowing in excitement like a child's and he whispered quietly, with a greedy stare:

"I hear you are able to fulfill any wish."

D merely smiled, the King making a gesture with his hand, sending all the guards and lords away and beckoning D to follow him towards a quieter place, far from curious ears. 

"I need you to do something for me."

It was rare, for a man like him, to admit any need, to ask for any favors. Everything he wanted he was granted, and those who couldn't respond accordingly to his demands surely were made to regret so. Yet the King rubbed his hands and licked his lips in nervousness, and D knew that if he wasn't the one to help the King, no one would be. It was maybe for this reason, why the man presented himself in such a way he wouldn't allow anyone else to see.

"I need to win," he said. He wasn't the kind of man to give explanations for his words or actions, but this time, he did. "A letter arrived from the neighboring kingdom. They're demanding things - things we don't even have for ourselves. We were always in peace and I... I always attended to their demands. But I'm afraid this time it won't do. My advisors are complaining that I'm too lenient. They say the people won't like us taking anything else from them, that they might get rebellious. That the nobles won't forgive me if I take from them, as well. Lands. Property."

"I'm afraid we'll have to go to war. Our," he gulped down. Behind the glory, there was cowardice. "Our army can't even be called that. We barely have any horses, and I dare to say I... I'm not skilled in the ways of fighting, much less everyone else."

D almost chuckled, and the King regained his composure.

"Grant me victory," he said. "And I'll grant you anything in my power. Else, I'm afraid you shall be banned, for neither witchcraft or wizardry are allowed under my reign."

The threat was present there, but the King couldn't make it sound like a promise, because of the absurdness of his words, drenched in fear of what might happen to himself and his life of luxury if that strange man wasn't able to work his magic - quite literally.

The fear disappeared, though, when D's painted lips curved into a smile.

"I think I might have the perfect thing for you."

Days later, the King discovered that the perfect thing was a mare. She was beautiful: dark coat, brilliant eyes. One of the most elegant and proud animals the King had ever seen his entire life. Not even the horses who belonged to the lords and ladies stood in comparison, and the King was enchanted, surprised that an animal like that could even exist. It almost made his confusion disappear. How would a single mare be able to defeat an entire kingdom's army? She could've had the most powerful legs, the strongest resilience of them all. The mare could've been the fastest between all, but she was only one. Not the most skillful warrior, together with her, would be able to wipe a great number of soldiers, even if those were less equipped. 

Doubt made the King's fears alive again, but before he could mutter a word of despair, D caressed the black fur whispering sweetly on her ear, and turned his eyes towards the King. He dared not to speak a word before the strange man did.

"She's a beauty," he commenced, and the King was able to see that D was absolutely delighted. There wasn't the scorn the King thought he saw when D talked to him. D talked to the mare as if she was a human being - no, better than a human being.

"You doubt she will be able to do anything, don't you?"

The King would be ashamed to admit so. He didn't even nod. D eyed him with an air of superiority, lifting his head a little, his fingers tracing the mare's back carefully... 

He whispered into her ear again, and soon enough the King was able to understand what D meant.

His immediate reaction was to give a step back, clenching his fists, but he was struck by such a sudden fear he couldn't see where he was stepping. He fell backwards, on the ground, his nails scratching the dirt as he tried to keep moving because, oh Lord, the sight in front of him, it was not possible, it was not a horse but a terrifying demon from legends and stories he never though real. The mare looked magnified now, her already powerful body now twice, no, almost ten times bigger. He eyed the animal, terrified, only to notice that when she lifted her head, girding an awful human-like cry between her yellowish teeth, fire emerging from under her nostrils and soon enough her whole head and body was covered in flames. Yet she was alive. God, an such monster should be killed and the wizard who brought her with him executed, enveloped by the same flames that burned the mare's body...

Suddenly, it all disappeared in a second. The King was left speechless, mouth hanging open like a buffoon, distraught eyes and heart thumping in his chest.

D snickered at him, patting the mare's fur.

"All it takes is a command, and all of your enemies, at the sight of her, will be struck by such fear they won't be capable of reacting. Cowardice will overthrow them, and your armies will have renewed courage. For the eyes of your soldiers, she'll look like the goddess of victory, guiding you through the battlefields. And for your enemies... All you have to do is sign this contract. I ask for no money and no gifts. Yet should you breech the clauses, I will not be held responsible for what happens."

The King was still trying to get to his feet when D presented him with a contract. He thanked God for being the only one there, for dismissing his guards so he could visit the strange man alone, and grabbed the piece of paper where three rules were presented in a strange fashion. The King thought he'd have to give away something - the hand of a daughter he didn't even have, or lands. But what the document asked him to do was much more unusual than that. He should, under no circumstances, give her anything to eat. He should not reveal her true nature to anyone else, being the only one to ride her. And above all, he shouldn't come down to visit the kingdom's cemetery, behind the church, from Thursday's sundown to Friday's sunrise.

For once in his lifetime, the rules hadn't been made by his hands. What else the King could do but comply? 

\----

As predicted, the battle was won. No one knew what had happened to the other army, whose soldiers stared into their enemies eyes and were robbed of their will to fight. No soldier from their kingdom knew why they felt so glorious when they arrived at the battlefield, so strong, so powerful, like being led by a worthy King and representing the most beautiful reign in Earth.

The small reign partied for three days. The King had ordered such festivities that even the poor had something to eat. During this time, even the peasants struck by famine and poverty were happy, knowing that their state, if not improving, wouldn't get worst, either.

In the fourth day, though, the illusion had vanished, and everything came back to as it was. The King, who looked like the most kind and most beautiful during a short period of time, turned back into a nervous, ambitious man.

This time, he approached D unhappy - as humanity was doomed to be, always full of dissatisfaction for what they hadn't obtained yet. The King was aging. While most people living in his domain hardly lived past thirty, forty, he was reaching the fifties and still had no child to turn into a suitable prince. His wife had died before giving birth, and he wasn't content with all the prospect candidates. The women were never beautiful enough. Maybe they had noses too big, chests too small. Maybe their waists weren't as thin as their lips, and well, he was the King, he wouldn't settle for less.

D smiled, as he always did. 

She was beautiful. Her skin was tanned, her hair dark as chocolate. Lips were full and red, and her body should've been sculpted by the hands of the most skillful artist. She looked wild, her eyes shined like fire. Her clothing couldn't be compared to any of the court's dresses. Instead of noble fabric, she was enveloped in pure gold. 

It should be said that the King fell in love, as the Kings of stories most certainly always did. She was so majestic she could be nothing but a Queen. And that was exactly what the King had been looking for.

There were no questions. The King certainly wanted to know more about her, but he was so entranced by her beauty and manners he could hardly ask. Ah, it was certainly strange for the wizard to have such a beauty, and for a moment, he wondered if she was a princess from a distant country, kidnapped by slave traders and handed to him through D. But she didn't look like a slave. Most of all, she looked pleased to meet him, making a courteous bow, even if her eyes never bowed to him at all.

He brought her to the castle with him immediately. It was as if she'd bewitched all the nobles alike: men were immediately attracted to her beauty, women spoke cruel words about her dark skin. hair and beauty. When the King asked for her hand in marriage, there was no surprise. When she accepted - because there was no way a woman in that reign would reject marrying a wealthy, powerful King - there was even less to be awed for. Yet evil tongues said she was the wizard's lover, equally powerful in witchcraft. That both had charmed the King, so they could control him from the shadows. Words begun to spread that the Queen flinched when she entered the church in her wedding party, that she walked to the altair as if she was stepping in splinters and glass. When the priest made the cross signal, she looked wretched behind her veil. And for the days when the party continued, she hadn't dare to eat a thing from her silver plates, refusing to drink the aged wine the King had reserved just for her. Even the servants said that, in the nuptial night, she had refused to sleep next to the King.

Of course, they were only rumors from wicked men, who were envious of the King for having such a beauty next to him, and from the women who couldn't stand someone else than one of theirs married to the men they wanted for themselves, if not out of love, out of lust for power.

The King ordered for anyone who spread rumors against his Queen to be executed - and the dark haired woman watched all of her enemies die in violent deaths. Not peaceful pacts with other kingdoms could make up for the thirst for blood the King and Queen had inside their own domain, the cowardice of the ruler having disappeared completely. His lenience, looking like it had never existed at all. The woman next to him was obviously affecting his decisions, and even if nobody dared to say anything, they all noticed. Even the King himself...

Now, he wasn't stupid, even if his desire for more affected his judgement. He was truly happy, for the first time in his life, with his Queen next to him to support him in every decision, and everyone else bowing in fear and despair. He wasn't afraid of anyone anymore, and the sensation... Ah, grasping everything he could at the expense of others, not bothering to care at all about the desires but his own. He had noticed all along that what everybody told was true. But...

What mattered if the Queen was a pagan who despised entering in a church? What if she refused to eat, but still looked more beautiful at each passing day? She didn't grant him an heir, even if now they slept together, yet he couldn't find himself caring about it. She was his, and she was devoted, and did anything he ordered her to. 

He had all reasons to distrust her, but if he did, he didn't show it.

Not until that night.

It was full moon, and the light that entered through the curtains forbid him from sleeping as well as he did every other day. He laid still, though, wishing for his dreams to come quickly. After all, there was no reason to. Everything was going on perfectly for him. Even if his people quivered under his strong hand, there was no more fear of invasion from other kingdoms. His men obeyed him faithfully, and his wife was as pleasant and good looking as ever. Even the problem of an heir didn't look so aggravating, he was sure his Queen could govern after his death perfectly. He cared so much for his line before, yet he found himself having eyes for her only after she came. 

That was until that night, when he couldn't sleep. He felt her moving slightly close to him in bed. 

He held his breath.

It was noticeable when she left her place by his side, touching the cold stone floor suavely with her bare feet. The King, with eyelids half opened, noticed how she didn't even bother to put on her clothes, when she left the room still in her night gown.

There was no sound of steps in the hall. Still, the King waited a few seconds before getting up. No lack of curiosity made him get up. Did the Queen have a lover? Was she seeing anyone at night? He tried to be quiet, silent, as he followed her.

Nothing could've ever prepared him to watch his lovely Queen getting out of the palace, hurried steps as if she was running away from the deadliest nightmare that ached to catch her.

The King hid, thinking the Queen had seen him and now was running, but she had seen no trace of his person. She kept walking, her steps guiding her through roads with little illumination, eerie streets in the dark of night. The King could barely see a thing but his dame, the woman running with all her strength. And she was fast, too.

Only when he heard bells ringing through the night he noticed his beloved, who had never attended to a mass in Sundays, trying desperately get to the church before the last clock hand struck midnight.

The King paused. He had just remembered of a forgotten memory, so deeply buried in his mind he almost couldn't precise it in time.

And then, he noticed it was already Friday, and that it wasn't towards the church that his wife was going.

When he arrived at the cemetery, it was minutes past twelve. His age and body weren't able to keep up with the Queen, his breath was cut short, and all his body ached.

The King couldn't bother to hide anymore. It wasn't even necessary. His Queen was to absorbed, and at that moment, he knew she would be incapable of noticing him.

She was in the ground, her knees buried in thick black earth. Her fingers scrapped it with fury, dirt under her nails, bleeding fingers. She tossed thick slumps of grass away, her dark hair was plastered against her forehead and her skin glowed with sweat when she finished digging...

The King watched entranced, and he had to cover his ears as soon as he heard her nails scratching wood, breaking it with her fists.

She held a corpse in her arms, a broken coffin laid tore apart by hands the King thought ever so delicate.

It was a child, he noticed in horror, with a gapped mouth and eyes wide opened. It was a child buried he didn't know when, but it was still almost recognizable, especially because of its size. The skin was peeling in some places, and where it couldn't be seen, a lump of rotten meat was shown in vividly colors of red and purple and green. The King could see maggots feasting in the putrid flesh, their yellowish skin contrasting with their dinner, their bodies twisting in a grim dance to celebrate the child's funeral.

The King choked and fell on his knees, vomiting as he saw his Queen bit into the flesh and tear it apart. The mouth he had kissed so eagerly licking and napping the worms and the dead meat as it had so many times done to his body, the fingers that touched him, gripping the child's body and ripping it so she could munch into a bigger portion. Her teeth sinking into the rot, hands scratching the dead so she could gulp it all hungrily, the worms escaping from her eager mouth sometimes just so she could fetch them and eat them as if she was savoring the most delicious appetizers.

Only when she had finished sucking the tiny bones she stopped, her tongue still enveloping and sucking it, she turned her eyes away.

His gaze met hers, and in a moment, all the disgust that made his stomach turn and his hands twitch turned into fear. The moonlight hit her eyes, and for the first time, the King noticed she was just as scared as him. But she didn't look human, all the beauty had disappeared from her face.

When a cloud covered the light, she was gone. In her place, there was an animal - the same one he had forgotten in his stables, that once was his shinny new toy who he turned away when he got something better. The Queen had turned into the black mare, but instead of the pride, she growled in desperation. She was smallish, yet the fire she spat and lived in burned brightly still, and the King could do nothing but stay still, trembling with his eyes opened and hands gripping tightly his mantle. He couldn't even breath, and he found his legs were to weary for him to run away...

The mare ran. She gave him a sad look before disappearing, and her mourning cries sounded like the voice of the woman that he wanted her to be. 

She vanished into the darkness, leaving behind a dismantled King and a violated grave. 

\-----

Words that the Queen was a demon spread faster than wild fire, and there was nothing the King could do now. He didn't want to. The men - noble and peasants alike - demanded explanations. The disappearance of the Queen, the shocked King found near a opened grave, a destroyed coffin. The vision the people had, at Friday's morning, of a wild mare whose body was covered in fire, running through the streets until the church bell rang six in the morning.

The country who had risen in a second was about to fall. 

And it did. When the King was executed, his body torn into pieces by a furious multitude, just like the corpse his Queen destroyed, there was no one to rise in his place. The country was ripped apart by the disputes of the noble. The attacks of poverty struck people who couldn't stand anything anymore. The reign, which hadn't been the most beautiful neither rich, but was peaceful even at the cost of its people's lives, spiraled down into chaos. Many lives being taken quickly, faster than any natural course for a kingdom.

The violence that tainted the land was strong and sudden, and no one noticed a man was missing, a man once known as D by those people.

He wasn't gone, in fact. He watched from afar as the country plunged itself towards destruction.

"I'm sad," his companion said. She was a beautiful mare, and she was carrying him to another land, another dream. "I loved him."

D frowned. The King had been a man like any other. Greedy, violent, coward. He had gotten away from his beloved wife as soon as he found out the truth about her - and his look of hate and disgust couldn't suppress the love she felt. The shame she felt about herself for having to do something he would hate her for, so she could maintain her beauty, her appearance as a woman. Just so she could please him. So she could be loved... And it didn't matter that she was so much worthy than him, that D cared for her as much as he hated the humans who turned themselves against the nature that loved them so. It didn't matter that he was a foolish human, and she was something so beautiful he shouldn't have even be allowed to touch.

D said nothing.

There were matters that not even he could understand.

 


End file.
